


Illegal From Here to Cybertron

by ASimpleArchivist



Series: G1 Love [1]
Category: The Transformers (Cartoon Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Affection, Established Relationship, Everyone's happy, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, F/M, Female Reader, Forehead Kisses, G1 Optimus is beautiful and I love him dearly, Kissing, Love, Optimus loves you, Reader-Insert, Short & Sweet, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, please give him love, wow what a beautiful tag, you love him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-02
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2019-01-08 01:05:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,191
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12244116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ASimpleArchivist/pseuds/ASimpleArchivist
Summary: You're curious about Optimus' mask. He divulges a secret he's kept since the war began.





	Illegal From Here to Cybertron

**Author's Note:**

> I know it was basically confirmed in a comic somewhere that Optimus' mouthplate/mask thing was actually a part of his face, but I also saw an IDW (I think) comic at Barnes and Noble this weekend that showed a picture of him without the mask as Orion Pax, and he actually had a face. This idea and, subsequently, this fluff resulted.  
> Plus, G1 Optimus is an adorable dork and deserves so much more love and attention than he gets on a regular basis, so. Yeah. Have this. (Also, I apologize if there any errors in regards to the continuity - I'm not very familiar with G1 as of right now.)  
> Please enjoy the fluff.

"Is it attached?"

The massive frame of the mech towering above you shifted and turned, his helm tilting downward enough that his face peeked over the edge of his boxy chassis. His optics were narrowed with confusion, his tone reflecting what his lack of a face could not. "I beg your pardon?"

"Your...mouth-plate...thing." You gestured vaguely to your own mouth for reference. "Is it attached? I know it moves when you talk, like it's fixed to your jaw, but...do you actually have a face? I'm pretty sure Wheeljack doesn't, so I was just wondering if it was the same for you."

The Prime was silent for a long time, simply regarding you with a careful scrutiny that you couldn't decipher. You felt something anxious bubble up in your gut.

"If that was offensive, I'm sorry," you said sincerely, "I really was just curious." You paused, considering that it might be a topic he didn't want to discuss - maybe he had a big scar he was self-conscious about, or maybe he lacked the human-like mouth that most of the other Autobots had. Either way, you didn't want to push it. "You don't have to answer if you want to."

"No," he said finally, carefully, drawing his servos away from the keyboard on Teletraan-1's main console and resting them on the edge. He'd been typing something you couldn't comprehend, the text being (surprise!) Cybertronian. "It is...not attached in the way you insinuate. It is a mask."

Your eyes lit up with interest at his admission. "So...you  _do_  have a face?"

The massive mech shifted on his pedes - only slightly, but it was enough to give away his inward tumult. "...I do." His optics dimmed briefly, his helm tilting away. He glanced around the bridge, which was and had been vacant since Prowl had come in to give his report twenty minutes earlier. "...Would...you like to see?"

He sounded hesitant, uncertain. You grew concerned. "Optimus, if it makes you uncomfortable, then don't offer on my account. I don't want you to feel like you're obligated to do anything..."

He leaned forward, downward, lowering himself so that he was nearly eye-to-optic. He lifted one servo and curled his digits around you carefully, a gentle caress that you'd grown accustomed to and adored with every fiber of your being. He rubbed the flat of his thumb against your stomach softly as you wrapped your hands around the bulk of it.

"I would like to," he said, a tad more firmly. The corners of his optics crinkled in a way that indicated a soft smile. "I feel that you deserve to see me as I truly am. I cannot hide forever."

You were seriously starting to wonder what he had waiting behind his mask. Did he have a tentacle mouth? Or just a hole like a gas pump? Holy hell, what had you gotten yourself into...?

You dismissed your rather irrational thoughts with an inward eye roll. This was Optimus.  _Your_  Optimus. You loved him and, subsequently, every part of him. Even if this particular part of him was a little different - all it would take would be some getting used to.

"Okay, Bossbot," you murmured, reaching out and rubbing at the central, vertical seam of his mask. "I'm ready whenever you are."

He took a moment longer, cycling an audible gush of air that could have equated to a deep, steadying breath in a human, before his optics fizzled out and went dark. You didn't have a chance to ask him why or if something was wrong before the metal beneath your palm folded away and tucked itself into the narrow space between his cheeks and jaw guards.

Eyes widening, you wheezed a breathless, "Holy  _hell_..."

Face contorting with the strongest expression of self-consciousness you'd ever seen, Optimus' optics blinked back on in an instant and focused on you for only a second before flicking downward. Shame was evident in the way his shoulders sagged, whatever reservations he'd had obviously getting the better of him.

But you were having heart palpitations for an entirely different reason. "Holy _shit_ , Optimus, those lips should be  _illegal_."

He stopped. He squinted at you in absolute bewilderment, the corner of his mouth quirking in such a way that it made you want to smash the entirety of your face against it (a subconscious and entirely understandable reaction to an expression so  _cute_ ).

"I...beg your pardon?" he repeated, and you watched completely enraptured as his mouth moved to form the adorably confused words.

"I've been missing out on these kisses for _months_ ," you breathed, mostly to yourself, trying to comprehend that you had never seen a man (or mech) as beautiful as the one before you. "You've withheld this gorgeous piece of artwork from the whole world  _why_?"

He pursed his lips, discomfort and vague embarrassment indicative in the...were those _dimples?!_  "You...do not think that I appear too...young?"

You blinked. "'Too young'...?"

He ex-vented softly, the warm gust of air brushing over you and making you shiver. "When Alpha Trion revived me and reconstructed my frame, he left my faceplate untouched. The Autobots were amassing rather quickly, seeking guidance and authority, and I...did not want to seem incapable of leading them."

"You...thought you looked too young to be taken seriously?" you asked, too aghast to be incredulous.

Again, he ex-vented. "Yes."

You reached out tentatively, placing your comparatively tiny palm gently against the cool metal of his cheek. He leaned into your touch immediately, optics flickering in eased contentment.

"Optimus, I'm not about to disregard your feelings about that," you murmured. "I can't tell you what to do - Lord knows _I'm_ not a leader. But..." You stroked the bridge of his nose slowly, a warm, affectionate smile overtaking your face. "...I think you're beautiful. You don't have to feel ashamed of yourself around me. I couldn’t care less if you looked like a baby or an eighty year-old man, because you're  _you_. You're  _Optimus_ , and that, to me, is already precious enough. Everything else just comes along with it."

To punctuate your confident statement, you leaned up and kissed the end of his nose for good measure. You heard his cooling fans kick on almost immediately, but you missed that in light of the borderline  _blinding_  smile that overtook his faceplate. His dentae flashed in the dim light from Teletraan-1's idle screen, his optics glowing brighter than ever before as he gazed down at you with absolute adoration.

You, yourself, blushed.

"You are too wonderful for me," he said, voice oozing happiness as he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of your head, your shoulder, your temple, your neck - anything he could reach. He stroked your stomach again, reaching with his other hand to cradle you between his palms as he smothered you with kiss after kiss after kiss.

 _Looks like he's going to make up for all that lost time after all_ , you thought distantly as he smiled against your clothing, a reflexive giggle escaping you as his breath tickled your hair against your neck.


End file.
